As It Came
by shannie541
Summary: Season 8, post-purgatory. Sam manages to rescue Dean (along with a few others) from Purgatory with a little assistance from Bobby. Dean has a hard time adjusting to life up top.
1. Chapter 1

This is how Dean imagined it when he got out of Purgatory; fresh air blowing in his face, the rumble and hum of the Impala as it whizzed down winding roads, the smell of gun oil and powder (and maybe a little sweat, too, to be perfectly honest), and the feel of leather against his back. And, if he didn't know any better, he could swear he could hear the car door squeak shut and the keys jingling in the ignition. He could feel the warm leather on his back. But that couldn't be right. Could it?

"Dean?" a familiar voice said.

But that couldn't be right.

It couldn't be.

It was dark, blessedly so, but the way that voice shot through Dean's heart, he knew it was Sam.

"Dean, man, open your eyes. _Please._"

That did it. Dean could feel his chest heave with each panicked breath and his body shook. His eyes shut tighter against what had to be an illusion. A fever dream or hallucination that happened all too regularly in Purgatory. The dreams haunted Dean even when he was awake and put him in a panic. They always came in the rare peaceful moments of Purgatory – if such a thing truly existed. _Exists_. No. Dean was sure nothing close to actual _peace _existed in a land constructed purely to keep monsters locked away. Sam or John or Mary (why did they always pick _her_ to torture him?) would appear from nowhere it would seem and stare. Or sometimes they would talk. Just…talk. There was nothing vile or threatening, just conversation. But when the moment would pass – Sammy was no longer there clamoring on and on about law school, John wasn't there talking about his pick-up or nagging Dean about how well he kept up the Impala or Mary wasn't there smiling sweetly, telling him how she loved him so – Dean would _ache _and claw at everything and nothing trying to bring them back. He'd come to and see Cas or Benny (or sometimes both) shaking him back to the grim reality of Purgatory's perpetually dark gray skies and bare trees or the rustling of some creature far off into the distance or the crackle of a small fire they'd built to keep him warm.

No, this wasn't real. This was a fever dream. They always were. Benny and Cas would find him soon and raise him out of the hallucination once again like they always did.

He knew this.

It happened all the time.

But his chest wouldn't stop. _Up, down, up, down, up, down. _Faster and faster.

Please, Cas. He begged in his mind. Stop this.

"Dean!" The person behind the voice had a grip on him now and the car's rumbling beneath them slowed. It was a dream, like always. The hand on his shoulder had to be Cas or Benny, calling him back from the Purgatory-induced insanity he almost drowned in. And Dean opened his eyes and his breath caught in his throat.

"Wha-?" He opened his eyes and saw the voice that struck so deeply in his heart and it was Sam, steering the car off to the side of the road.

And he screamed.

There was no traffic on the roads and the stars hung heavily overhead. Sam swung the car door open and ran to the passenger side. He opened the door as quickly as he'd done his own and turned Dean towards him. His hands gripped tightly over his eyes and fingers grasping his hair shaking.

"No, no, no, no. No!" He panted between labored breaths.

"Dean, please." Sam placed a hand in Dean's shoulder and used another to try and pry his hands from his head without taking a handful of hair out, too. "You're out. It's okay. You're safe."

"_No!_" Even with his hands down from his face, his eyes were shut tight and he shook against the back of the passenger seat. "This isn't real. They never are."

"What never is, Dean?" Dean's only response was a grunt when Sam reached out to palm his face. He flinched at the touch but Sam didn't pull away. He'd waited for this – for Dean, since he'd disappeared after killing Dick Roman. A year; over a year, actually. 419 days Dean was gone and Sam tried every trick, spell, and plan he could fathom in that time but it worked. It worked! Dean was home (whatever home was for a Winchester) and safe (whatever safe was for a Winchester). He'd gotten through hell and he could get through this. Sam needed him too. Did taking him out of that place mean anything if Dean was still being tortured in his own mind? He sighed and watched as Dean, his big brother, crumpled and faded away right in front of him. Somehow, he'd thought that when Dean was free of whatever new hell had claimed him, he'd come through it all again and be fine. Dean was always fine. Even after hell. But there was solace in the thought that Dean wasn't in Purgatory alone. Cas had saved him in hell and he'd watched over Dean in Purgatory, too. The irony never escaped him that his mother had proclaimed to Dean as a child that angels were watching over him and he always wondered if she ever knew how true a statement that was.

But he couldn't think about that now. Now, Dean was in front of him hyperventilating and unreachable. Cas was nowhere to be found and Dean needed help. Now. Sam did the only thing he could think of and pulled his brother close to him. It must have startled Dean, who stopped his muttered cries of "no, no, no" as Sam wrapped his arms around him and held him there.

The moment was almost silent, filled with only the sounds of crickets off into the waist-high grass a few feet away and the buzzing of insect wings. The dark road seemed to be abandoned that night and the only real light for as far as Sam could see came from the headlights of the Impala. And they sat there, in their chick flick moment with Dean, safe and alive and home, wrapped up into Sam and so still.

Sam pulled away first. Dean's breathing had slowed and his body had relaxed and Sam thought progress was being made. He gently pushed Dean away to find him asleep, mouth slack, and snoring quietly. His brows were tense and drawn down but he had stopped screaming and was sleeping.

"Progress." Sam whispered. He turned his legs back into the car and shut the door quietly. He ran with as much urgency as before to the driver's side and started the car heading off to a motel.

Dean was lighter since Purgatory. The mud-caked and tattered remains of his clothes clung loosely to his body and Sam found it disturbingly easy to be able to haul Dean's arm's across his shoulder, his arm around Dean's waist and carry him into the motel room.

Moonlight streamed into the room and illuminated the bed closest to the window and the door (always Dean's bed) and he laid his brother down. Dean stirred and grunted from the movement but remained firmly asleep while Sam dashed to the trunk of the Impala to grab his duffel and back. The bag clamored on the table across from the bed and Sam walked over to wall and flipped the switch.

Almost like something out of a movie, Dean's eyes flung open wildly and he groaned at first before letting out another scream that Sam hoped he'd never have to hear again. Dean drew his hands over his eyes and coiled on his stomach moaning into the pillow. Sam watched for a moment before realizing his mistake. He jumped to the light switch, flipped it off and released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Shit. Shit! Dean, I'm sorry. Your eyes. _Fuck!_"

Sam stood there, not knowing whether to walk over to the huddled mess of his brother and comfort him back to sleep again or to stay away, fearing his pressing might cause more harm than good. He didn't have a chance to do anything. Dean's body relaxed and he sat up wearily, away from the direction of the moonlight. He rubbed his hands soothingly over his eyes and breathed ragged breaths.

"Why do you keep coming back?" It was a whisper, more to himself than anyone else. "Why do you keep doing this to me?"

"Doing what, Dean?" Sam asked, still unsure of what to do so he closed the curtain to the window and stood tethered to the floor. "Look around. We're in a motel room, the crappy motel room that we always stay in when we're on the roads." He gestured around the dark motel room. Crappy TV, two twin beds with a nightstand between them, a couple of lamps, a table by the door, and a kitchenette. Yup, standard fare. "You're safe... If-if you want, we could, uh, go back to Bobby's or somewhere where you feel safe. We're kinda far from South Dakota, but I can drive there in a day and a half, maybe less – speed limit be damned! Christ, Dean. He's gonna be so happy to see you."

"Bo-Bobby?" Another whisper to no one. But Sam heard and went on.

"Yeah, yeah. He's the one who found the spell and all the crap I needed for it. He would've come with me, but he stayed back in case I needed something from his books. Or if I needed someone in the FBI real quick to justify to some local, hick sheriff why I was doing 100 miles an hour through his town." He chuckled. Dean didn't respond, so he stopped and shifted awkwardly in his spot.

The sheets ruffled beneath Dean and Sam took half a step forward. "Bobby? Alive?" Bobby was never in the fever dreams before. Bobby was dead, or so Dean had thought.

"_Shit!_ Yeah, Dean. Bobby's alive. He's perfectly fine." He lied. Bobby was alive, that much was true, but Bobby never completely recovered from the bullet to the head. Sometimes, he'd have the shakes so badly that he wouldn't move, too afraid to break something. Other times, he'd be so tired that he'd stay in bed with his books within arm's distance piled high working on a way to bring Dean back from where ever the hell Dick Roman zapped him to. When he found out it was Purgatory, Sam had moved Bobby's mattress into his library and he lived out of there for six months. When Dean was sent to Purgatory Bobby was still in a coma – a vegetative state, the doctor's called it. After Dean disappeared, his phone rang and it was some nurse from the hospital on the other line. He fully expected the worst possible news – _"I'm sorry, sir. Bobby passed away last night. He never regained consciousness."- _or some melodramatic TV-type shit. But no. The nurse had told him that she came in to find Bobby sitting up and yelling for Dean and wouldn't calm down until someone called him. He'd sensed it somehow, and Sam never could shake the feeling that Bobby woke up, that he came back, for Dean.

"Sam?" It was the first time the Dean had spoken without unshielded terror in his voice, but it still wavered.

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam's did, too.

"Is this…" his voice cracked like a thirteen year old's in the throes of puberty. "Is this real? How can this be real?"

Sam couldn't contain himself any longer. He walked to the bed in swift strides and Dean's muscles tensed. Not a flinch, but his fight or flight response kicked into overdrive. He slowly approached the bed from the side and put a hand on Dean's shoulder and Dean finally took his hand from his face. "This is real." Sam spoke slowly, deliberately, so there was no mistaking. "Dean, I swear to you that this is really real. Remember when I kept seeing Lucifer everywhere and thought I was going crazy?" He paused and Dean nodded, staring off straight ahead into the darkness now. "You grabbed my hand and kept telling me that this was real and whatever I was seeing was just in my head. Right?" Another nod. Sam reach to Dean's knee where his hand had fallen and took the hand in his. He waited for Dean's limb to stop shaking before putting that hand over his heart. "Purgatory was real, but so is this. This. Is. Real. Dean, you're home." Sam couldn't fight the smile that spread dumbly across his face. Despite everything, the fact that Cas had fluttered off somewhere after the spell and that some other man was dragged out of Purgatory with Dean and his angel and the Dean sat before him so traumatized, Sam was happy. Dean was safe, the rest they could all deal with as it came.

Minutes passed and they sat like that; Dean's hand rested over Sam's heart still watching nothing. Then, his hand sagged a bit in Sam's and his body swayed. Sam moved carefully and laid Dean back down on the bed, covering him with a blanket.

The rest they could deal with as it came. In the morning, or whenever Dean woke up, Sam would check him over for injuries, get him some clean clothes and a razor. If Dean, pre-Purgatory Dean, could see his wild hair now, he'd try hacking it off with a butter knife. Sam smiled. Then they would head back to Bobby's, find Cas (and that man) and deal with the rest as it came.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean slept a restless slumber, reminiscent of his time after Hell. This time, though, there were no whimpers or cries for help. Instead there were low, guttural growls and call outs for Castiel and, from what Sam could understand, someone named Benny. Perhaps that what the other man was that appeared inside the sigils with Dean and Castiel, Sam thought. His head thrashed in his sleep when he would hiss a threat to some invisible creature and the corners of his lip twitched upwards into what Sam thought resembled a smirk or even a smile. He stood over Dean and watched. His brother's face was caked in dirt and sweat and his mud slicked hair left stains across the pillow. The sheets and blankets laid strewn across the bottom his legs and Sam took note of any obvious injuries that he was too preoccupied earlier to check for.

There were cuts across his face, some healed and some fresh, and a gash that ran from his hairline to his brow. Sam had missed that before in his need to keep the room as dark as possible, even while Dean slept and Sam kept watch. Even now, the sun had set hours ago and curtains were still drawn tightly to prevent the stray rays of street and headlights from finding their way into the room and offending Dean's light-deprived eyes.

"Dammit, Dean. What the hell happened to you?" Sam whispered to no one, well aware of the answer Purgatory happened.

As if on cue, Dean's eyes flew opened wildly and Sam, standing too close to Dean is his state of near-constant agitation, was greeted with a swift fist to the face. Sam reeled back, clutching at his nose and uttering a silent prayer that it wasn't broken. Honestly? Even if it was, it was okay.

"Get the hell away from me!" Dean shouted. His eyes were narrow, not panicked and filled with fear like after Castiel pulled him from Hell. This time, Dean's eyes held hatred and rage as he glared at Sam, bent over with a hand to his nose.

"Dean, it's me! It's Sammy."

Dean took a moment to compose himself and take in his surroundings. The motel room was dark, but he could see. No motel room at night could touch the perpetual darkness of Purgatory. "Sammy?"

"Yeah." He let loose a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, it's me…In our usual dump of a motel room."

"H-how?" Dean cleared his throat and shook his head nevermind. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and held a hand when he saw Sam approaching. "I-I got it." And he did. Dean stood quickly on his own, patting himself down and checking for injuries. Sam smiled. Maybe this would be better than after Hell, he hadn't lost a step. Dean winced as he gently poked and prodded around his abdomen.

"Are you okay?" Sam still stood back, not wanting to meet with another blow to the face. Once he was sure his nose had stopped bleeding, he wiped the bit of blood from his hand on a nearby towel and looked back over to his filthy brother. "Oh, uhm, I can get you one of these… Y'know until you fill up to taking a shower." And he did. Sam half-ran to the bathroom and wet a hand towel with cold before bringing it to Dean. "I don't know if you've seen yourself lately, but you're filthy man." Another nervous chuckle. Dean was filthy. His clothes were in tatters and only seemed to stay on thanks to the dirt acting as a glue to his body. His hair lay flat with mud and bits of dried blood that smeared onto his face.

Dean nodded in thanks and wipped at his face and then pressed the cool and damp towel to his sore torso. "Think I got a cracked rib." He said quietly.

"I-I can help with that."

Dean shook his head no, sitting back on the bed. "I got it."

Sam nodded and cleared his throat. "Bobby and I never stopped looking for you. We called every contact that we had made over the years and the ones we figured owed Dad a favor or two. Or twelve. They weren't much help, told us that you were probably dead and to leave it be. But, we couldn't. Most of them can't imagine what we've seen over the past couple of years, you know? So, uh, Bobby kept looking through every book he could get his hands on and found this spell. Really old. I went out and got all the stuff we needed and brought it all to this abandoned warehouse but I think our translation was off. I had only meant to pull you and Cas out of Purgatory but some other guy came out with you. I don't know where they went—either of them. I practically dragged out to the Impala and by the time I got back, both of them were gone. They seemed fine though, I think you were the only one that was out of it." Sam rambled. "Cas probably had some angel stuff to do and the other guy…I don't know. We'll find him, though. Both of them."

"Benny."

"What?"

"Benny. The other guy. His name is Benny."

"Oh. Was he another person that got pulled in you killed Dick?"

Dean shook his head again and Sam could see dirt flecks fall from his hair over his lowered eyes. "No. No. He was there for a while…" Dean's voice trailed off and he stared for a moment at the remains of his socks before he spoke again. Sam approached the bed slowly and Dean drew back and Sam stopped mid-stride. "Bobby?"

"You wanna—we're not far from the Yard. We can go today if you want—if you feel up to it?"

Dean nodded. "Gonna shower."

"Yeah! Sure! I have your bag with clean clothes in it and everything." Sam turned and walked near the table and handed Dean his duffle. Dean stood and nodded his thanks before squinting up at Sam.

"What happened to your nose?"

"Uh, I-I tripped. It's nothing." Sam stammered.

Dean said nothing while he walked towards the darkened bathroom. He sat his bag on the edge of the sink and turned to face Sam, "You gotta be more careful, Sammy."

They drove in near silence to Bobby's. Most of the journey was done in the peaceful comfort of night, with Dean still favoring the darkness. Sam drove, with the headlights of the Impala dimmed, upright, body stiff with tension and nervousness in the silence. Dean sat erected into the passenger seat, one hand pressed to bruised ribs and the other rubbing his knee. Adrenaline still pumped through him while he stared sharply out the window into the plains with Sam exchanging worried glances to Dean from the road.

The sun rose in the rearview mirror when there was still a ways of travel left. Dean fidgeting in the seat, averting the reflected light of the sun from the mirror. He shut his eyes and exhaled. His head ached, his side was still sore from a dirty shot from a Leviathan, and he couldn't relax. Out of Purgatory and he was still a livewire, jumpy and unsure. Cas had vanished and Benny disappeared with him. Maybe that was why he couldn't relax. For a year (over a year, really), the three of them worked to stay alive, to tend to each other when one was injured, to watch over them in moments of weakness and vulnerability. They were gone now, maybe in trouble while he and Sam drove serenely to Singer Salvage Yard undoubtedly where he would be asked to recount the tales from Purgatory when the few words he had manage to exchange with Sam made his throat tight.

Purgatory was a place of extremes; made to contain creatures too dark and unholy for Earth but overflowing with enough power that a taste of it drove Castiel mad. Energy ran all throughout Purgatory but not in the form that was useful to anything that wasn't was close to living; no sun, no light, no heat, no breeze. Nothing. Leviathan and other creatures hung around in the air like a fog that they couldn't shake. Splashing too loudly in Purgatory's lone river or snapping a twig acted as a trigger that sent a barrage of monsters down on their heads.

When Dean Winchester and the angel that gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition enter Purgatory, it is not a quiet affair. Benny, too, was a being not deemed worthy by his own kind it seemed, and it was why they joined together. It was a wise decision, too. Benny had been trapped in Purgatory longer than Dean had been alive on Earth and knew the lay of the land.

Traveling alone sometimes often seemed like the better option. It forced you into a silence that cloaked you. Traveling in a group meant safety in numbers but also a greater risk at drawing attention to oneself. So, they resorted to traveling in near silence for so long Dean wondered if it was possible to forget how to form words. Castiel had broken this cardinal rule when he called out for Dean, grasping for his hand, as they tumbled through a portal out of Purgatory.

After a while, the light became too much for Dean to stand. Without realizing it, he'd placed his hand (the one not clinging to his torso) over his brow like a visor and squinted his eyes downward.

Sam was the first to break the silence when he noted Dean fidgeting and his jaw clenching against the sun. "Dean, we're about twenty minutes out. Close your eyes and lie back, if you want. Get some sleep."

Dean closed his eyes and rested his head against the leather-covered head rest of the passenger seat. That much was easier. But he didn't sleep. Too amped up, anxious to see Bobby outside of the hospital, to find Cas and Benny, to make sure he didn't wake up trapped in another dimension, to be without Sammy and the Impala and _home_ for a year…the list went on and on the longer Dean thought about it. No, sleep could wait. It had waited for over a year before he'd fallen asleep slumped against Sam's shoulder; a few more days wouldn't kill him.

Sammy lied. They reached Bobby's house in ten minutes. Maybe that was because after Dean let his head fall back, he heard the engine roar when Sam stepped forcefully on the ignition. Any other day before Purgatory, when Dean felt safe talking and wasn't overcome with burdensome thoughts, Sam wouldn't get away with so readily mistreating Baby. But it wasn't any other day and on this particular morning (he wasn't sure of the day), Dean didn't really care.

The Impala slowed when it pulled up Bobby's drive. Soon enough, it stopped, the keys jingled in the ignition (and Dean could feel his lips twitch upwards in a glimmer of a smile at the sound) and the door creaked open. Sammy's long legs made the length of the car in only a few short seconds and he opened the passenger door. Dean forced his eye lids apart, dragged himself out of the car and took in the sight. The junkyard had remained exactly as it had before, hapless piles of metal and junk sprawled any and everywhere, the dry and loosely packed dirt of the drive stirred from the Impala and covered Dean's already filthy boots. He looked up at the porch and made out a figure standing near the door before he had to turn away to save his eyes. Before he was able to attempt to look again, calloused hands took his face into his hands and he could feel warm breath on his face from either choked sobs or laughter—Dean couldn't tell.

His eyes were still downwards when the hands that cupped his face came down and were wrapped tight against him. "Boy, you've got no idea how good it is to see you."

"Bobby, we should get him inside. This light is killing his eyes."

Dean could feel Bobby nod on his shoulder and heard him sniff before he pulled away. "Right, right. Let's go."

Inside Bobby's house, he'd turned the lights off and closed the shades and blinds on his windows. Light still slipped through a few cracks, but in the calming darkness, Dean could take in Bobby as more than just a voice. His hair was shorter beneath his dusty cap but it was Bobby. Bobby, too, stood in careful watch of Dean. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his face was marked with cuts and bruises. And judging by his posture, his body was just as damaged, if not worse.

"Bobby." Dean let out in a faint whisper. Dean closed the small gap between them in a few steps and they embraced, this time with Dean's arms clung tightly to Bobby as well.

Sam watched from a few steps back and smiled. "I'm gonna go grab us something to eat. Dean's probably starving." He said after a while remembering that in the time Dean had been awake after he returned from Purgatory, he hadn't had anything to eat and hadn't asked.

Dean pulled away from the hug, finger rubbing at the bridge of his nose while Bobby spoke. "There's a few beers in the fridge, Sam! Bring those out with you!" He sighed a smile at Dean, "Damned good to see you."


	3. Chapter 3

Purgatory was a completely different beast than Hell and the Apocalypse.

In his earlier years in Hell, Dean found himself strapped to the rack with Alistair standing above him; greedy, blood-starved claws digging cavernous openings in his chest that erupted with blood. Or, when he was feeling particularly sadistic, Alistair would _touch_ him in ways that still make him want to vomit and shudder when someone (even Lisa, at the beginning) would touch him intimately. Even after he agreed to torture damned souls, that never stopped.

But, when he climbed free of his own make-shift coffin, choking on his own grave soil, Castiel had somehow pieced together the broken shards of his soul and he didn't feel so empty. Without knowing what it meant then, Castiel's name was the first words that escaped his lips when his heart started beating again and his lungs filled with the foul-smelling air.

He was alone in Hell. He wasn't alone in Purgatory and he wasn't alone now. But he needed to find Cas. And Benny. In the few moments he found himself without Sam and Bobby hovering at Singer Salvage Yard, he'd bow his head low, draw his brows down and send a silent prayer to Castiel, wherever he was, that he needed him – that he needed to know that he was okay. When he didn't hear the flutter of Castiel's wings and turn to find him standing a bit too close, his chest would hitch, but then he'd flush the toilet, let the water from the sink run for a few carefully timed seconds and walk out of the bathroom.

On the fifth day after Dean and Sam arrived at Bobby's, Dean found himself sitting on top of the dust-covered hood of a beat-up, old, car that hadn't run in years. A storm was coming and the sun had hidden away behind the grey and swollen rain clouds and the sky seemed eerily like Purgatory's. Since Sam brought him back, the sky had been a refuge. Even in his fever dreams in Purgatory, the sky was always the same pale grey that it had always been. Watching the stars that hung over the world would work to remind him that he wasn't still back there, dreaming that Sam was sitting next to him. They let him know that the world around him was real; Sam was real and Bobby was real and alive and stroking his back gently when the urge to _run _and fight things that weren't really there threatened to drag him back down to the depths in his haunted dreams at night.

In the beginning, Sam had appointed himself that guardian of Dean during the nights when the dreams had gotten bad. He would sit in a chair in the far side of the room after Dean finally, _finally_, would drift off and then his mutterings and growls would start. He'd bark threats at creatures and scream when, Sam thought, they'd begun to fight back. And Sam would devotedly approach the bed and whisper reassurances to a sleeping Dean. And Dean's reaction would be the same as it was that night in the motel. The first night, Sam was thanked with a fist to the groin. The second night brought another punch to the face, his jaw this time. Bobby would rush into the room to find Sam kneeling on the ground, curled in on himself and Dean standing defiant over him with wild eyes that would calm upon landing on Bobby.

_"B-bobby?" Dean would turn and his emerald eyes would flicker back to normal in the darkness._

_"Sam, you okay?" He was answered by a grunt or groan, depending on the body part Dean chose to strike. "Dean, it's alright, boy. Look around you. You ought to know this room better than anyone. It's been yours since you were knee-high." And Dean would listen, his eyes would soften when he noticed the familiar dresser, stacks of books in the corner, even the bed sheets were the same as they'd always been. Bobby walked over to him and pulled him in tightly and rock Dean's shaking frame as the adrenaline wore off._

_Dean wouldn't speak much in the hours after his Purgatory-dreams. When Sam and Bobby were alone, Bobby would draw his brows down low and stare intently at the floor. Before Sam respond to the gesture, Bobby would speak quietly, almost to himself, Sam thought, about how the bits of silence reminded him of Dean as a boy. "When I first met you two and your Daddy, it was a few months after the fire. Dean had stopped talking; hadn't said so much as a word in all that time. John didn't seem too concerned about it, but it ain't normal for a kid to stop talking all together like that. But at night, I'd hear this whimpering comin' from your room and I thought that it as just you fussing about needing to be changed or a dirty diaper. So I'd go in a check on you both and you were sound asleep in the crib. Dean would sit in the middle of the bed with his knees pressed real close up to his chin and… He'd look up at me with those big eyes of his…the kid was terrified and John's sorry ass was too busy drowning in his own misery or a bottle of Jack to notice."_

_"So what do we do?"_

_"I don't know, son." He'd sigh. "I don't know."_

He heard Bobby's back door slam shut and his muscles tensed, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the overcast sky. _Cas_. His eyes had finally starting to re-adjust to light, even though Bobby still kept most of the curtains drawn in the house. But the familiarity the grey sky and weighty clouds carried drew him in intently. The only real difference was that up top, lightening danced across the sky where there had been none before in Purgatory.

Sam walked over with heavy feet (as to not surprise Dean enough to be met with another fist to the face) and beer and sandwich in hand.

"Bobby says you haven't been eating enough. He's right, Dean. Look, I know you're worried about Cas and Benny but, you've gotta take care of yourself, too."

Dean shook his head no and closed his eyes briefly before speaking, which still felt foreign, even after a week. "That's not it."

Sam shifted where he stood, "I know it's hard, but you've got to talk to me, Dean. I can't help if you won't tell me."

"There was no food in Purgatory." He cleared his throat and began, still gazing ahead. "Nothing. Time's different there. It ain't like Hell where a month was ten years. A year here was the same as a year there, but…it was different."

"So what did you eat while you were there, Dean?"

"Nothing."

"_Nothing_?" Sam repeated.

"You never got hungry there. Benny and I never did, at least. There was a river there you could drink from if nothing was chasing after you, but that was more out of habit than anything else."

"You've gone a year without eating? Dean, you've been topside for five days! You've got to eat something."

"You're right." Dean consented and then there was another streak of lightening and the crack of thunder.

"You should come inside. It's gonna pour." Sam turned to head back to the main house when instinct yelled at him to turn back around. Dean was no longer sitting on the hood of the old clunker, but staring off incredulously around him. "Dean?" Dean's head turned quickly behind him and before Sam could reach a hand out to Dean, he ran off.

Dean was fast. He was always faster than Sam, even as children, and never missed an opportunity to remind him. Sam, on the other hand, had mile-long legs and used them to take large strides and could usually catch up to Dean, but could never maintain his speed. After Purgatory, this was still true. Dean seemed to be even faster as he bobbed and weaved through stacks of scrap metal and long-abandoned cars Bobby kept for spare parts. He came to a stop in front of a beat up pick-up caked in rust and mud. Sam was breathing hard at this point, but Dean's eyes kept darting wildly around for something.

"Dean? What the hell?" Sam panted.

"Where the hell are you?!"

"Dean, there's nothing here." Sam reached out a hand to place on Dean's shoulder, but Dean jerked away and stepped forward.

"Hello, Dean." Dean whirled around and peered behind a pile of scrap metal and his eyes opened wide. Castiel, unshaven and dirt-covered, stepped forward.

"Cas." Dean blinked and rubbed at his temple. Beside him, he heard Sam mutter what sounded like _what the fuck?_ but Dean's eyes and attention were focused squarely upon his angel's shoulders. He swallowed hard before taking shaky steps to close the distance between him. Sam stood back and watched as Dean embraced Cas with a timid smile spread across his lips. Castiel returned the gesture, with arms loosely around Dean. Before Sam could blink, Dean pushed back from Cas and threw his arms at his side. "Where the hell were you? I prayed to you. _Prayed _to you. I-I thought…"

"I heard, Dean. The spell Sam used to draw us out of Purgatory must have weakened me. It was too difficult to appear on this plane until I recovered some strength. But I heard your prayers, Dean. I always do."

Sam watched Dean's chest rise and fall rapidly with anger when he first pulled away from Castiel and saw it slow its heaves at his explanation. His clenched fists loosened, but his gaze remained intense. "Are you alright now? You're not hurt, are you?"

"My mojo, as you put it, still isn't completely restored. But, I do not doubt that it will return with time. It always has." Castiel smirked a familiar smirk and Sam thought that Dean surely was beginning to rub off on him. "It is good to hear your voice again, Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

When Benny was plucked from Purgatory, he found himself huddled up in the dark corner of a dust-covered warehouse floor. Beside him laid the trench-coat wearing angel, blue eyes wide and transfixed on Dean. Dean was sprawled out on the floor, battered and bruised, with a dark haired man kneeling over him. The man called his name over and over again, but Dean's eyes stayed closed. Benny was quiet and observant as the man drew Dean into his arms and carried him off, stepping over lit candles and chalk outlines on the ground, not paying much attention anything or anyone else. Dean and the man disappeared threw the doors and Benny's eyes flicked back over to Castiel who was standing now. Their eyes met and Castiel gave a slight nod before disappearing off to wherever it was angel's went to do whatever it was that angel's did.

Alone, for the first time in god-knew-how-long, Benny stood on unsteady legs and took a few cursory steps to the door where Dean and the man exited only a few moments before. Benny leaned against the doorway as the night air blew steady and cool breezes. Dead leaves stirred on the ground and the moon shone high above. His ears twitched at the familiar rustling sound but he calmed himself. He knew where he was, knew it instantly. Purgatory had a different odor than the real world, his world. He'd traveled and lived decades longer than humans could have ever dreamed of and never experienced a scent as rancid and foul as Purgatory was, filled with it decrepit creatures that stalked its prey under the grey skies. A smile spread itself across his lips before he'd even realized it before a familiar ache returned to his stomach and he doubled over before falling to his knees.

That pain, that wonderful pain, was something that never plagued him in Purgatory. It was another way to know that he'd made it out. It was why he let that man gently lift and carry Dean out of the warehouse moments prior. He was starving and his stomach churned in on itself. The smile was gone now – long sense faded when the ache made it hard to stand. In its place were fangs and he knew he needed to regain some trace of composure immediately. He could smell the man from earlier approaching again and placed a steadying hand to his stomach and willed himself to stand.

The man was still a way's away, but the breeze carried his scent and _god_ did he smell good. Benny could practically hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart and could feel the warmth of his blood dripping sloppily from the corners of his mouth. A jolt of energy ran through him as he finally made it to his feet.

"Come on, now. You ain't some barbarian. Dean'd kill you for eatin' his giant friend." He whispered to himself. Closer now, the man came and Benny straightened before disappearing, too.

He stalked through the dense trees with his eyes to the trees, like he'd done so many times before in Purgatory. This time, though, he didn't track a Leviathan that threatened to spring forth on their heads. Now, he followed a smaller creature that posed no danger to anyone. It sprinted down the tree and Benny saw his opportunity to strike.

He ran to the tree and with strong, swift hands, grabbed hold of the creature that he'd pursued; a squirrel. His fanged mouth smiled, "oh, be still now. It won't be that bad."

Hungry teeth sunk into the creature's side and he squeezed it. The blood was warm and satisfying but the feeding was all to brief. For a second, it twitched in his hands before he tightened his grip around it and heart the crunch of bone. When he finished, he discarded the dead animal near a tree and covered it with leaves. He licked his bloody lips and was quick to spit out a chunk of stray fur.

"Vermin." He hissed. "But, you sure do come in handy in the hard times."

He found and drained three more squirrels – enough to quiet his hunger but not enough to raise questions when some overly eager park ranger found piles of dead squirrels with puncture marks and completely drained. He dragged his shirt sleeve across his mouth, wiping away streaks of stray blood and fur before staring up at the now-sinking moon. He knew he'd have to find Dean and he knew he'd see his pain-in-the-ass angel again, too. Soon, he'd hoped. After a year of companionship, it was truly a strange sensation to not have one of them around, Dean cracking wise and his angel sending distrustful glares his way. At least, the glares were distrustful at first. After a while, though, Benny recognized what his eyes held: worry (almost assuredly for Dean), and maybe the faint trace of jealousy.

_Cas held Dean's back tight against his chest. Dean grunted and clawed at the air, struggling against the angel's tight grip but he refused to let go. Dean scream a string of curses at Castiel, and Benny, who stood watching the exchange. _

_"Let me fucking go! Sammy, don't just stand there. Fucking help me!" _

_Cas placed a hand over Dean's mouth to silence his shouts and eyed Benny as he spoke. "Dean, you must be quiet. Please. Sam is not here."_

_Dean grunted in response. _

_Cas let out an exasperated sigh, as if he understood the sound and Benny's brow quirked. "Benny…"_

_"Yeah, I know. I see 'em, too. You gotta keep Dean quiet. He's drawin' too much attention."_

_"Yes, I am aware. My presence here isn't likely to help the situation, either."_

_"Don't get any ideas there, Castiel. You better not go flitterin' off to parts unknown again." Benny said, backing away. His muscles twitched and his hand tightened his grip on his weapon and his eyes were glued to the trees. "Dean's gonna go off half-cocked tryin' to find you again. And we both know he will."_

_Dean grunted muffled sounds against Castiel's hand again. "Do not try to bite me, Dean."_

_Benny chuckled. "Come on out, you cowards! I'm right here waitin' but I ain't got all day!" The leaves in the trees rustled again and Benny saw dark shadows jump around in the branches. _

_"You cannot attempt to take one five Leviathan on your own, Benny."_

_"Watch me."_

_"But – "_

_"Listen here, Dean's obviously in no condition to be much help and when the dream's get this bad, he always comes out better with you around than me. Last time it was like this, I thought he was gonna try and jam a twig in my heart."_

_"Dean would never try to harm you if he was in his right mind."_

_"Yeah, I figured as much. I've saved his scrawny hide enough to know better. But you two've got some _bond_ or something." The trees rustled again, but Benny could smell that they were retreating. It had become a new game that Leviathan begun playing. They'd track them down and observe from their perches in the trees but wouldn't always attack. It put them all on edge and the Leviathan were smart enough to know. Apparently, they weren't all that smart because this should have been a time where they should've attacked. They were down a man and Castiel was otherwise occupied leaving only Benny to fight and he was more than willing to do so alone. He'd done it before he joined with the hunter and his angel and would do it again to protect them (although, he wasn't sure he'd ever admit something like that aloud to either of them)._

_Dean's body went slack against Castiel's and his arms dropped heavily to his side. "Aw, I think he's tuckered himself out." Benny loosened his grip on his weapon and took a few cautious steps to where Castiel stood with Dean in his arms. He nodded and Cas removed his hand._

_"Wha – what the hell happened?"_

_"Another dream, brotha." Benny clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder and eyed his wearily. "Are you alright?"_

_Dean stood on his own now and his eyes flicked between Cas and Benny. "Ye-yeah."_

_"Dean, you have no reason to feel ashamed."_

_"You say that now but if this shit happens the next time something fucking attacks us – "_

_"That's what we're here for, brotha. Support and all that."_

_"Yeah, well…"_

_"Dean. I'm serious. You turned ova every stone looking for your ol' angel buddy and you even though you're only human," Dean huffed, "you've covered my ass plenty of times. We've gotcha, brotha. Really." _

_Dean blinked and flashed a hint of a smile before nodding in thanks. "Benny is right, Dean. You told me once that we were family. Well, family looks out for one another."_

_"But if you bite me the way you bit Cas here a minute ago, consider this your warnin': I bite back."_

_Castiel chuckled (a first, Benny noticed) and rubbed a thumb across the bite mark in the palm of his hand. Dean laughed and brushed past Benny to grab his weapon that leaned against a tree near them. "We ready to head out?"_

_"Yes," Castiel supplied. And they headed out alongside the river._


	5. Chapter 5

"It is good to see that you are well, Bobby."

Bobby smiled and stroked his beard. "You too, kid."

"Did you just call an angel 'kid'?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest and arched his brow at Bobby, who shook his head and shuffled back into the kitchen.

"If I'm dealin' with a house full of…Team Free Will, I'm sure as hell not gonna do it sober."

Dean sat on a loveseat near the far side of the room watching the exchange rubbing absent mindedly at his head, just above his brow. His uneaten sandwich sat on a chipped plate on the arm of the chair and had been untouched since Sam sat it there when they came in before the rain started. Castiel turned towards Dean and cocked his head to the side.

"You should eat, Dean."

"'M not hungry."

"That's not what you said when we were outside." Sam was now facing him with worry shinning in his eyes.

Dean smirked, but not with his usual flare. His eyes were dull and he still thumbed his head. With his free hand, he grabbed the sandwich and took an aggressive bite with a grimace. "Happy?"

"Not really. Why do you keep rubbing at your head like that? You need a Tylenol?"

"No."

Sam sighed. "I'm gonna go get a drink with Bobby." He turned to face Cas and placed a hand on his shoulder. I'm glad you're okay, Cas." Castiel nodded and Sam stepped a bit closer to whisper in his ear, "he's not doin' too hot, Cas. Maybe you can keep an eye out for him."

Cas pulled back and eyed Sam for a moment before nodding earnestly. "Always."

Castiel walked over to Dean in long strides, taking a seat next to him on the couch. He watched Dean warily for a moment before speaking. Dean was still staring at the plate and his sandwich and fingering his brow. "You do not look well, Dean."

"Huh. Way to make a guy feel special there, Cas."

"I did not mean to insult you. I'm just...worried."

"Worried?"

"Are you really that surprised?"

"Yeah. No. I. I don't know."

"What troubles you, Dean?"

"What doesn't?"

"Benny?"

"Part of it."

"If anyone can take care of themselves, it's Benny. Unless you are concerned that he'd feed on – "

"No! That's not it. Benny wouldn't do something like that. "

"Right. I saw him when we got out of the portal. You were unconscious and Sam had taken you to the car. I couldn't stay long – I was too drained, but he seemed okay. You were much worse off than either of us. Perhaps because you're only human."

"Gee, thanks."

"I didn't mean it as an insult."

"I know."

"Sam is worried."

"Sam's always worried." Dean sighed and dropped his hand to the arm of the couch, like he just realized what he'd been doing the entire time. "Haven't spoken much to 'em."

"Sam and Bobby?"

Dean nodded. "Talking's still…strange. It's…It hurts."

"You are out of practice. Talking is not the only way to communicate, Dean. We seemed to have an efficient system back in Purgatory."

Dean nodded.

"You will be able to adjust, Dean, like you did with Hell. You are resilient and strong; stronger than you give yourself credit for often times."

"'s not the same."

"How so?"

"You...you rebuilt me after Hell. My soul especially, I mean. On God's orders, no less. What am I supposed to do on my own this time?"

Cas paused for a moment and they sat in a comfortable silence. Dean took another bite from his sandwich, more tentative this time, and rested his arm on the couch. Castiel looked down quickly before resting his hand on top of Dean's. Dean startled at the warmness of Castiel, before he relaxed again, reclining lazily. "You still have me, Dean. Always."

Dean smiled briefly before it faded into a grimace. His hand resting near his plate clutched at his head, index finger digging into the same spot above his eyebrow. Castiel pushed himself off the sunken-in couch and crouched down in front of Dean. His grip on Dean's hand tightened at his quiet groans of pain and his free hand found its way up to his shoulder. Dean's eyes were closed tightly and fine lines etched at their corners.

"Dean."

Dean took a deep inhale at the sound of his name and threw his head back releasing a shuddering breath. The moment passed quickly and quietly, Bobby and Sam still in the kitchen drinking and talking and Dean giving Cas a shaky smile.

"Dean, are you alright?"

"'s fine. I guess Sammy was right, huh?" Castiel raised a curious brow and tightened his grip on Dean's shoulder. "I think I just need to eat or something."

"Or something indeed."

Dean's eyes flicked to Castiel and turned his hand upward in the angel's, grasping it gently. "I'm fine. Could use a beer, though."

Cas returned Dean's gesture before nodding and bringing himself to his feet.

"_Shit_." Dean muttered to the empty room. He closed his eyes tight once again and swallowed the pain that rose in this chest. When he heard the refrigerator door shut, he re-opened his eyes and did his best to hide a grimace as he straightened in the seat.

Castiel re-entered the room with Sam and Bobby on his heals. He handed Dean the beer with a knowing glance before turning to Bobby. "Thank you for letting me stay here, Bobby. I truly appreciate it."

Bobby smiled. "I know you do. And I don't want to hear no more about it, we clear? Now while you three were outside playing in the rain, I reheated some leftovers from the other night. Dean, you need to eat something other than dry sandwiches, you got me? Now get your scrawny ass up before I have Sam hold you down and I force feed you,"

Dean grinned and stood, walking behind Bobby and Sam – shoulder to shoulder with Cas – into the kitchen.

Even with Castiel back, Dean's nights followed a similar pattern. Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Castiel sat at the kitchen table talking for a time when Dean excused himself, stood, and went to bed. Sam's eyes followed Dean as he made his way to his bedroom while the stairs groaned under his weight and heavy steps in his boots. Sam's shoulders tensed while he waited for Dean's regular screams to fill the house. Bobby kept his eyes on the table and pulled his cap down over his eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" Castiel asked.

"Dean don't sleep too good anymore."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and huffed. "Has he ever?"

"Is it nightmares?"

"Yeah." Bobby and Sam sighed in unison.

"He was afflicted with something similar in Purgatory – awake but dreaming at the same time. Is that what's happening now?"

"I mean, I don't know if they're the same but he dreams about Purgatory and wakes up swinging. He's clocked me a time or two and Bobby seems to be the only one to be able to bring him back from the brink."

"Purgatory is hard on the soul, Sam."

"Are you saying that there is something wrong with his soul? We've gone through enough of that mess to last a lifetime." Bobby replied and Sam fidgeted in his chair knowing who and what he was referring to.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. Although, I really can't be sure. Benny and I are different – Purgatory didn't have the same affect on us as it did Dean."

"Wait, Benny isn't human?"

"No, Bobby. But that is unimportant."

"Well, you were weak when you came back from Purgatory, too. I'm sure Dean just needs some time to recover. He's only been back for a week."

"That's not the same, Sam. I don't have a soul. It is true that time could be all Dean needs but…"

"But _what_ Cas?" Bobby's voice now a growl.

"It could have been damaged when he was brought back or some fraction of its energy could have been trapped within Purgatory."


	6. Chapter 6

An "Indian summer" is what Bobby called it; the unseasonably warm breeze that stirred the brown and orange leaves on the ground around rusted out old cars. The days were beginning to get shorter but the sun had been shining bright and high with the intensity of early summer. It proved to be a relief, in its own ways, for them all – the cooler weather of autumn causing a steady ache in Bobby's joints and the clear skies acting as the ever-present anchor to tie Dean to earth and assuring him that, at least part of him, had left Purgatory behind. Castiel, too, seemed to find relief in the warmer days, though the only evidence of such a thought was the lessened intensity of the lines around the corners of his tense mouth. And Sam simply found relief that everyone else seemed to be doing a little better in the temperate fall air.

Bobby had opened his home to the three of them, like always, but for the first time Sam and Dean found themselves in separate rooms. Dean's night terrors continued to be a plague on them all. They no longer came every night, but the intensity seemed to increase where the frequency had declined. In the earlier nights when summer was fading and he and Sam still shared a room, he lashed out in violent bursts that Sam couldn't tame. With new tricks he'd learned from Purgatory, Dean would stealthily strike and Sam, either too taken aback or in a refusal to harm Dean, would be subdued. The _thud_ of a body falling to the ground or furniture being overturned and Castiel would simply appear with Bobby rushing through the door only a few seconds after. Cas and Sam would restrain Dean while Bobby did whatever he did that brought Dean back. Dean, an obedient son, would rouse and awake fully with wide and panic-stricken eyes and let his muscles relax under the strong and reassuring grasp of his brother and his angel.

Now, after much argument and an initial refusal from Sam, Dean had moved into a room closer to Bobby's and Castiel was a near-permanent fixture in the chair across the bed when Dean slept.

_"You don't need to do this, Cas." Dean said quietly in the darkness. Dean heard the rustle of fabric – Castiel's coat – over the purr of Bobby's old fan and squinted to see Cas stand and shrug out of his coat in the darkness and fall back into the chair that creaked under his weight._

_"You should sleep, Dean. I'll watch over you."_

_Dean smirked. "We're not in Purgatory anymore, Cas, you don't have to do that anymore. _

_"Yes, you are right. I don't _have _to do anything. I want to do this for you."_

_Dean sighed and fidgeting in the bed. He cleared his throat before speaking again, stalling. "So…there's something wrong with my soul, right?"_

_"No." Cas replied adamantly. "I've seen your soul, Dean, and there is nothing wrong with it."_

_"That's not what you told Sam and Bobby. I left a piece of it or something back there, eh? Or maybe I just broke something."_

_"No, Dean."_

_"Well then, what is it? Don't leave me hanging on the edge of my seat, now."_

_"Your soul – it is like many living things and adapts to its surroundings. Purgatory was a dark place and you were trapped for a long time. I was not lying when I told you that you simply needed time to readjust."_

_"'Simply?'"_

_"Poor word choice."_

_"You don't make those too often."_

_"Yes, it appears you may be rubbing off on me after all. Dean, you must allow yourself time to heal."_

_"I never got over Hell, Cas."_

_"I know. The Apocalypse makes recovery difficult." Dean could hear the smirk in Castiels's voice and found himself giving one in response. _

_"Cas?"_

_"Dean?"_

_"Why haven't you gone back home – to Heaven?"_

_Castiel was quiet for a moment and his head was bowed in the reflective silence. "When I first came here, Bobby told me that this could be my home. I had hoped you felt that way, too."_

_Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to the end where he sat a few feet from Castiel. The angel gave him a curious stare filled with intensity that Dean returned. "This is your home, Cas. Bobby spoke for all of us – Sam and me."_

_"I am glad. Much of the time I spent in Heaven I would have preferred to spend here."_

_"It must be lonely."_

_"What? Heaven?"_

_"I mean, I get that you've got all your sisters and brothers up there being all angel-y, but you're not like them. I mean, maybe Anna before but…I think you fit in better around here."_

_"With humans? With you?"_

_"Best company there is."_

_Cas was quiet again for a moment and his eyes flicked away from Dean before speaking again, "I agree."_

The call and promise of coffee lured Dean out of bed too early in the morning on GodKnowsWhatDay but stopped in his tracks when he heard voices coming from the kitchen.

"…I don't know if it's such a good idea, Sam." Sam stood leaning against the kitchen sink with his arms folded over his chest. From the coffee maker, Bobby turned with two steaming mugs to face Sam with shaking hands.

"Bobby, don't worry. I can handle a few vampires. I'll be back by the end of next week. It's you I'm worried about."

"I took the damn pills – now give 'em their time to work. I don't need you mother hennin' me, boy."

Sam smirked. "Right. But you can mother hen me?"

"Damn straight. It's one of the perks when you get to be my age."

"Hypocrisy?"

"You can call it whatever the hell you want. All I know is that it's stupid for you to go off running on some hunt solo. Let me make a few calls."

"No, I'll can be there and back by the time some other hunter that we know and trust that's still alive gets here."

"Smart ass."

"Bobby – "

"Sam, I know you always seemed to think that Dean was too much like your Daddy but you have more John Winchester in you than you do sense sometimes."

"It's probably why we always butt heads so much when I was growing up."

"Yeah, no shit. And Dean, if you don't quit lurking around in the shadows, I will kick your ass myself."

Dean jerked and stepped forward. "Good mornin' to you, too."

"Dean? How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that you're planning to go out and hunt down a pack of vamps on your own. What the hell, Sam?"

"Well, I've got to do something!" Sam barked. Bobby flinched at the sound and brought a hand to rub at his temple. "Jesus, I'm sorry." Sam placed a heavy hand on Bobby's shoulder and ushered him to a ratty kitchen chair.

"Bobby?" Dean watched with wide eyes and as if on cue, Bobby opened his eyes and smiled warmly at Dean. "Are you alright?"

"Just a headache, son. It'll pass; they always do."

"I'm gonna go grab your meds, Bobby." Sam said, darting off from the kitchen to Bobby's bedroom.

"How bad?" Dean spoke softly as he pulled out a chair and sat adjacent to Bobby.

"Not too bad. Honestly? Things have been a hell of a lot better since you got back."

"Jesus. Bobby, I'm so sorry."

"The hell are you apologizing for, boy? Dick shot me, not you."

Dean nodded somberly, the image of Bobby laying sprawled out on the backseat of a car with a bullet wound to the side of his head and his cap with a circular blood stain on it or Bobby lying in his hospital bed with tubes and wires criss-crossing across his body. His face was grey and the sounds of heart monitors and respirators and the like pinged and echoed across the cold and sterile room to the point of bringing deafness. Thos images flashed before his eyes and Dean did his best to push them down and swallow the sickness that rose in his throat before he attempted to speak again. "I know. And I know I haven't been making things easy on you being here, what with practically killing Sam every night for the first few weeks." He starred down at his hands and his jaw tightened. "And I know you hear me at night sometimes – before Cas brings me back. I've been trying my damnedest to keep them under control, but – "

"Dean, you idjit. That car out back ain't the only you got, son." He reached out a hand and placed it on top of Dean's. "I mean it. I don't care if you scream yourself horse every night – having you here is a hell of a lot better than the alternative."

Sam ran back into the room, hand closed tightly around two brightly colored little tablet. He passed them to Bobby who swallowed them with a nod. "It'll pass." He said to Dean who still held him in tight stare.

"Right. Sam, you aren't going on this hunt alone."

"Dean, I can handle it. I've hunted vamps before."

"Alone? With your soul intact? That's what I thought. I'm coming."

"Are you sure you can handle a hunt right now?"

Dean's eyes flashed and an unreadable expression spread across his face. He stood from his chair and stepped close to Sam with his fists clenched tight at his sides. "Sam, I've been doing nothing but hunting and being hunted for the past year. Yeah, I think I can handle it. Cas can stay here with Bobby and we'll head out tomorrow first thing." He gave Bobby one last glance over before brushing past Sam and heading back upstairs to pack.


	7. Chapter 7

Benny had gotten sloppy, careless even. The smell of his mistake hung heavily in the dank early morning air. In the shrouded, heavily wooded area with dense trees acting to cloak him, he looked down at the sprawled out remains of three deer – his latest binge – at his feet. Faint traces of blood mixed in with flicks dew on the grass at his feet and his lips curled back, hissing at the drops of his meal he'd let go to waste. The sky was beginning to color as the moon set and slight peaks of sun rays pooled in over the horizon. He closed his eyes at the sight, basking in the first bit of the day's warmth, a sensation he'd enjoyed as often as possible since being thrust out of Purgatory.

The moment was fleeting, however, as he turned back to the animal carcasses. In the three months since his release from Purgatory, he'd only fed on animal blood. It was strange, though, when he considered this behavioral evolution. Before Purgatory, the thought of feeding and existing solely on the blood of animals made his stomach curl. But now, his sense of everything seemed sharper and as the sweet drops of red flowed into his mouth and dribbled down his chin when he sank sharpened fangs into a warm body, he smiled into his puncture wound, savoring the taste while holding the animal steady. Occasionally, he had caught himself wondering how much sweeter the blood of a human would taste now but quickly shook the thought from his head. That was a path he wouldn't travel again – it was a vow he'd made to a friend and a damn skilled hunter.

Nonetheless, he'd gotten too carefree as of late. He had returned to the town of his origin, a prodigal undead son, and made a life for himself in the few short weeks he'd been around. He'd found a job and the closest thing he had to a friend since Dean had all but taken him in. It was the first bit of happiness that found him in a long while but still… too many animal remains with puncture wounds and drained dry of all bits of blood? No, he needed to stop this – to stretch out his feedings or to travel further when the hunger pangs became almost too intense to function. He wouldn't risk this life he had now. Never. Something else was threatening to do so for him and the thought made him swallow thickly. Just a town over, there'd been talk of some _creature_ leaving the remains of dead animals all over that just so happened to be dry of their blood. The talk had begun to escalate when human remains had begun to appear as dry as the animals. Benny wouldn't allow whatever the hell this was run him from his home. Nothing was going to do that again if he had any say in the matter. So, he kept his head down and busied himself with work at the diner and mingled with townspeople like any other human would do.

He couldn't risk drawing similar attention to his home and to himself so he scooped up the two deer bodies, easily resting one over each shoulder, and marched back to his clunker of a pick-up truck. Once upon a time in another life and another dimension, a friend he'd not spoken to in what felt like ages, told him tales of the modern world and things he'd missed out on. When he would get to the part about how modern vehicles and changed and progressed (or regressed, as he would say), disdain dripped from every word. Benny would soon find himself in agreement with his comrade come time to choose an automobile for himself. So, he picked the oldest one he could find that still ran decent with enough cargo space for inconvenient times such as these. So with a huff, he tossed the bodies on a black tarp in the bed of his pick-up and threw another one over it, tucking it in securely. He'd take care of the bodies. He always did.

He found himself wiping sweat from his brow, still in contemplation walking towards the driver side door. Even in the fall, the early morning heat of Louisiana made dampness pool around his collar and under his armpits and it was not a sensation that he'd missed while in Purgatory, he realized. It was consistent with human physiology, though, so he was grateful.

"Guess I betta be getting' on." He drawled, climbing into the cab of the truck.

* * *

The first time Dean and Benny laid eyes on one another after Purgatory, the shock pierced through Benny so deeply, he thought someone had driven a stake through his heart when he wasn't looking. There he stood under the night sky, with a familiar scowl ghosting across his features and his axe held so tight in his hand that he trembled. Benny's postured relaxed and he straightened, raising his hands to show he meant no harm to Dean and the tall man that stood behind Benny and moved slowly to approach. Benny could hear the beating of the man's heart and knew from the rhythm he was the one from the warehouse.

Dean exhaled sharply when his eyes traced over to Benny and shook so violently, he needed to clutch the handle of the axe tighter to make sure it didn't fall from his grip. Dean returned Benny's gestured and straightened to full height. Sam stalked closer and closer behind Benny with an axe rising in his arms. Dean blinked, a frown drawing his brows close together before he bellowed out to the other man.

"Sam! Stop!" Sam obeyed, Benny noticed. His hands grasped onto his weapon tightly but he made no further move on his trek to behead Benny. "Benny?" Benny's eyes flickered and a small spread across his face, knowing if he had been human, he wouldn't have been able to hear Dean's question.

Benny took a step forward, putting space between himself and Sam. "Oh, is it good to see you, brotha. Last time we were together, you weren't lookin' too good."

Dean smiled and took steps toward Benny. A laugh escaped from his lips and the two men embraced. "Christ, man." He clapped Benny's shoulder as they pulled apart and they eyes each other, searching for injuries – a habit from Purgatory that did not break. "You alright?" Dean asked, noting faint traces of blood sprinkled over Benny's white shirt and black suspenders.

"Don't be givin' me that eye. It ain't mine." Dean's smiled slipped from his face and he took half a step back. "Relax, Dean. It ain't mine and it ain't human."

"You been feeding on animals?"

"Exclusively." He nodded and Dean exhaled. "Y'know, I never did appreciate venison before Purgatory."

"Bambi? You're out here eating freaking _Bambi_?" Dean joked with a smile.

"I think it must be all the grass they eat, brotha. Tastes better than I remember."

"Dean!" Sam called from his spot just over Benny's shoulder. Dean had almost forgotten his brother was there watching their exchange with wide eyes and a mix of confusion and frustration coming off him in waves. This hunt hadn't been an easy one for them. Hunting vampires wasn't a difficult task but the heat of Louisiana, even in the fall, worked to fuel Dean's anxiety and his quiet spells. Sam hemmed and hawed but Dean waved him away, assuring that he was okay, he just wasn't used to hot weather anymore. When the nightmares hit while they both slept in their motel room (the first time they'd shared a room in weeks), Dean would awake caked in sweat, the cold sweat the nightmares would bring and the kind brought on by the muggy heat in their motel room with a broken air conditioner and a pitiful fan blowing from the corner of the room. Now he watched as his brother stared at him while he greeted a friend, a _vampire_, with warmth and familiarity. The same vampire they thought they'd been hunting only three minutes ago.

"Sam," he said, walking closer to his brother, "this is Benny. From Purgatory."

"Yeah, I figured that much."

"Sam, relax would ya? Benny's - he's a good guy. Trust me."

"Pleasure to meet ya there, Sam." Benny extended a hand and chuckled softly when Sam did not return the gesture.

"Are you the one out there killing those people?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's glare and the clenching of his jaw.

"Straight to the point aren't ya, kid?" Benny watched from the corner of his eye as Dean stared harshly at Sam, an expression he found himself on the other side of too many times to count while they were in Purgatory. "It ain't me." A clipped, curt response for an equally terse question.

"Huh. How many other vampires do _you_ know of around here?"

"Sam…" Dean warned.

"Dean. I know you think this guy is your friend, but if he's out here killing people then…" Sam let his voice trail off and Benny growled low in his throat before he could contain himself. Sam blinked in surprise and continued, "The bodies show up just before the sun comes up every Thursday before the sun rises like clockwork. Explain that."

"I don't owe you any explanation, boy."

"Like hell you don't."

"It. Ain't. Me."

"Prove it."

"Don't know how much good it'll do. Seems like you got your mind made up there." Benny turned to Dean, eyes imploring for trust.

Dean heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his sweat-slick face. "Well, lucky for the both of you that today just so happens to be Wednesday." Dean thumbed the axe blade in his hand and drew a few droplets of blood stained the cold metal. Dean's eyes flicked up to Benny and watched as his nostrils flared but he remained still. A faint smile traced on the outline of Dean's lips before he sucked the blood away from his own finger and turned on his heels, walking back to where the Impala was parked. "Are you comin' or not?!" He called off. "And Sam, don't you think about beheading anybody tonight!"

The journey back to the car was tense with an awkward silence hanging overhead. Neither man spoke until they reached the Impala, parked next to Benny's pick-up. Benny instinctively walked back to his own car but turned when Dean called.

"You're riding with us, Benny."

"That's a beauty of a car you got there, Dean, but I am more than capable of following you to whatever hole-in-the-wall you're stayin' in."

"Look, Benny. It's not like I don't trust you here, but we need to eliminate as many variables as possible here. We'll bring you back to your car tomorrow after we check to see if any more bodies turn up." Sam huffed and threw himself into the passenger seat. "You'll be safe. I swear it."

"I don't doubt you, Dean. Your brother, on the other hand…"

"You have my word that nothing is going to happen to you while you're with us." Benny rubbed at his brow and climbed out of the truck and went to the rear driver side door before smiling at Dean. "It's good to see you're still in one piece, man. I mean it."

"You too, brotha. You too."

* * *

The drive to the motel was filled with as much uncomfortable silence as the walk to the car. Sam occupied himself by staring out of the window and Dean drove fast, gripping the steering wheel tight in both hands. No music played on the radio, which surprised Benny when he considered how much Dean hummed and sang to himself when he thought no one was around back in Purgatory. He watched as Dean's jaw clenched and unclenched and fidgeted in his seat, the leather squeaking underneath him.

Even in the darkness, Benny could matching sets of dark rings under the eyes of the Winchesters. Dean shifted in his seat again under Benny's watchful gaze and he wondered what it'd been like for Dean these past few weeks.

Benny had been able to find a home in a Podunk town with a long-lost relative and relative peace, until it was invaded by some unknown nuisance that he sought to avoid. In that peace, he was able to gain some type of control, control that was highlighted when Dean sliced into his thumb and even with the sweet fragrance of adrenaline-filled blood wafting to his nostrils, he still didn't react. Dean, on the other hand, looked exhausted. His hyper vigilance, leadership and stealth showed when he almost attacked Benny and managed to rein his brother in from doing the same. But without the added adrenaline pumping through his blood (blood that Benny could still smell), he slumped a bit in his seat and blinked slowly, clearly on the brink. Sam didn't look much better – except he did little to hide is discomfort with Benny, the agitation he carried, and something else; something that looked like worry – for Dean. Sam's eyes flicked to Dean when he thought the elder Winchester wasn't watching and his eyes softened when he took sight of Dean's slightly hunched shoulder and pale knuckles from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

As if he knew he was being observed by both passengers, Dean was the first to speak. "We're going to find a motel closer to the next town."

"You think that's such a good idea, Dean?" Benny drawled. "I mean, if baby brotha' is right and I am the one killing these things, you think deliverin' me there like a purty little present is smart?"

Sam groaned but Dean chuckled low. "Shut it, Benny."

And they drove off down an empty road in relative silence, with only the purr of the Impala underneath them.


	8. Chapter 8

_Dean had no knowledge on how to track the passage of time in Purgatory. There was no sun or moon to even begin to estimate and his watch (whatever good it would serve in another dimension) shattered not long after killing Dick Roman and being thrust into the strange plane of existence of Purgatory. So, Dean had no idea how long he and Benny had traveled together, on a quest for escape, but in that time, he knew that he trusted the vampire in a way he never thought he'd so willingly trust a monster. They both needed something from one another and Dean knew that if he was killed, he'd serve no purpose to Benny and he also knew that two sets of eyes were better than one when it came to being a wanted man in Purgatory and finding his wayward angel. _

_"How long have you been here, anyway?" Dean found himself asking one night after he'd hacked the head off of a Leviathan. He grimaced when something akin to blood splattered on to his face and he could hear Benny huff with laughter behind him. "That's not funny," he muttered._

_"Now, Dean," Benny drawled, "how in the hell do you expect me to answer that question? Ain't too many clocks hangin' around here."_

_"Smartass. What year did you get zapped here?"_

_Benny blinked and stood erect from where he crouched sharpening a blade. He stretched his arms overhead and groaned when his joints popped. "I – it's been a long time, brotha. Too long."_

_"A night in this hell hole is 'too long.'"_

_"Ain't that the truth. That's all the more reason why we needta get moving."_

_Dean glanced over to Benny from scattering Leviathan limbs into the woods. "I know. But the head isn't gonna sever itself."_

_"Just hurry the hell up."_

_"You rushing me now?_

_Benny shook his head and exhaled steady. "Yes, you idiot. What I'm sayin' is something could kill you – or hell, _me_ – before we even get close to finding your feathery friend so we need to get a move on."_

_"So this is, what, self-preservation talking?"_

_"Damn straight it is. I can't keep coverin' your scrawny ass in here. One day, something's gonna get the jump on us. There's a hell of a lot more of them than there are of us, in case you haven't noticed."_

_"First: I'm not scrawny. You're the one always hiding under that coat that's a good size too big. But I do dig the suspenders, by the way," he chuckled. "And, second: I have noticed that we're outnumbered. These Leviathan have been a pain in my ass for the past year topside, let alone how long I've been stuck in this shithole."_

_"I guess that means we need to get a move on, huh" Benny wiped his hands on his pants legs and his lips quirked up to a smile. "We need to find some water or something so I can get this gunk offa me."_

_"Hell yeah, you do. If I have to smell you any longer, I think I'd rather just stab you in the heart now and save myself the trouble."_

Sam sat tense in the passenger's seat as the Impala pulled into the motel parking lot. Dean shut off the ignition and exhaled a breath before turning to face his two passengers. "Well? Are you guys gonna sit here with your thumbs up your asses or what?"

The three doors creaked open as the three men made their way to the front office of the motel under the buzzing lights erected in the parking lot. Dean purchased the room and they walked in silence back to Impala to grab their gear and then headed off for their room.

Benny flicked the light switch on and Sam groaned at the sight of a the two queen beds as he threw a bag onto the chair nearest the door. "I'm gonna grab a shower," he said making his way to the bathroom door. "And I'm not sharing a bed!"

"Bitch," Dean muttered as the door closed.

"Jerk!" Sam called through the door.

"Your brother's got good ears."

"Yeah, and he's a pain in my ass, too." Dean dug into his front pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Listen, Benny, I got a phone call to make. I'll be right outside the door so _please _don't kill each other. I'd never get the blood out of this tacky ass carpeting."

Benny laughed. "Honestly, brotha, it couldn't look any worse than it does now."

Dean gently pulled the door closed behind him and dialed Bobby's number. The phone rang twice before Bobby grunted a greeting into the phone.

"Good to hear your voice, too, sunshine."

"Boy, you'd better have good reason to be callin' me at this hour."

"Shit! Sorry, Bobby. I guess I lost track of time."

Bobby groaned and Dean imagined him sitting up in bed. "Aw, hell, kid. It's not like I don't like getting up at…1:12 in the morning. Early bird and all that."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I guess. I was just calling to check in on things. How are you? And Cas?"

"You calling to check in on me? I'm flattered, really."

"And Cas."

"Huh, right. Well, your angel's still here perched on my shoulder. I had forgotten he doesn't sleep so I stuck him in my library. Figured that would keep him occupied for a few hours at least."

"And how are you, Bobby? Really."

"Dean, you need to stop worrying about everything. It's gonna drive you into an early grave."

"Again? Didn't you know that the fiftieth time's the charm?"

"When you get back here, I'm gonna kick your ass for that one."

"Would you just answer the question already, old man?"

"If something was wrong, don't you think I'd call you?"

"No, I don't."

"I'm good, Dean. Haven't felt this good in a long time, actually. No headaches, nothing."

Dean grinned and released a breath. "That's good. I'm happy to hear."

"How the hell are you? How's the hunt going?"

"Huh. I'm okay, actually. Trying to keep Sam and Benny from slaughtering each other at the moment, but other than that? Peachy. And we're making progress."

"Yeah, Cas filled me in on your vampire friend. Listen, you be careful, ok?"

"Always am. Truthfully, this is nothing compared to when Cas and Benny first met. I almost had to put them both in time out."

Bobby laughed into the phone and it quickly became a yawn. "Dean. Call me if you need anything, alright? I don't mind pulling your ass out of the fire or sending Cas in after you."

"Gotcha, Bobby. Go back to sleep."

"Well, hell. I'm up now. Might as well make myself useful. Maybe your angel would be good for some entertainment."

Dean smiled. "You let me know how that works out. Talk to you later, Bobby."

"Yeah, yeah. See ya soon, kid."

When Dean walked back into the room, he rolled his eyes at the sight of Benny sitting tall on one of the beds and Sam, hair still damp, pouring over his laptop – both of them looking at anything other than the other's general direction.

"This is getting old, guys." Dean closed the door behind him and flopped into the chair opposite Sam. "You need to trust me, Sam."

Sam blinked up at Dean, eyes wide. "Dean, you know I trust you."

"Then trust me when I say you can trust Benny."

"Dean, I know he saved your neck down in Purgatory, but – "

"But what, Sam? He saved my life. Since when is that not good enough?" Dean heard the sheet on the bed ruffling to his side but kept his eyes on Sam, who sat slightly agape.

Sam's eyes turned back down to the computer screen and he looked so much like he did as a boy in trouble that Dean had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at his eight foot tall brother pouting like he did when he broke Pastor Jim's lamp. "I'm sorry."

Dean groaned. "Whatever, Sasquatch. Just…go to bed, you look like shit."

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome." Benny stood and looked over at Dean with an eyebrow quirked in question. "Oh, hell no, Benny. Look, you're a good guy and all but I'm too old to be sleeping head-to-foot with anybody. Take the bed. I'm not tired anyway."

"What are you going to do, Dean?"

Dean sighed. "The bodies of the victims were found around, what, 6? And the coroner placed time of death around 2 hours before, right? So shut up and sleep for two hours and then we get the show on the road."


End file.
